Team Rhubarb

I've never thought much about rhubarb. Heck, I can barely spell it. It always seemed like some pink celery from outer space. Over the holidays, the wonderhub and I ate at Knott's Chicken Restaurant and I ate rhubarb for the first time. It was horrible... cold, soggy chunks that tasted like glutenous sachets from an old lady's sock drawer. So I decided that rhubarb was the devil, an evil, vile,  barely food, on the same list as lutefish or pickled pigs feet.

But there were rumors of another kind of rhubarb, that perhaps I was being hasty in my decision to never let this pink celery pass my lips again. Friends wrote me about the heavenly properties of the stuff, sang the praises of rhubarb pies and jam. Descriptions like, "Best ever" and "so delicious" were thrown around with abandon. What did they know that I did not?

Then this package arrived by parcel post all the way from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. A mom and her eight-year-old daughter had made jam for the first time and they sent me some.  For three days I stared at these two little jars sitting on my desk, glowing like rubies... wondering.

This morning I toasted a whole wheat English muffin, poured myself a cup of coffee and popped open the jar of gingered rhubarb. I spread a tiny amount on the tiniest piece of bread and ate it.

  It. was. amazing.

It tasted like summertime and sunshine. I ate more. Then I tried the raspberry jam. It tasted like fresh fruit picked that morning, not like chemicals. Absolutely incredible. Moreish. Crave worthy. Perfect.

So thank you, Michele and Hannah. You have made a believer out of me. I will always be a member of Team Rhubarb.